


Under The Table

by vuas



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Fingerfucking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, The Author Regrets Nothing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 11:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14354511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vuas/pseuds/vuas
Summary: It’s just your average Friday night, until his hand slides up her thigh beneath the table.





	Under The Table

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I like this why do I do these things lmao please enjoy

It was the first warm night in ages; the breeze was teasing at Rey’s hair, at her thighs, finally free beneath her skirt. The rush of a Friday night buzzed in her veins, mixing with the alcohol. Rather copious amounts of cheap wine had been consumed on Rose’s second-hand couch. Then the tequila, cut with limes and salt and giggles. Now she’s pleasantly soft around the edges, brimming with happiness.

 

It might have something to do with the fact that she’s crammed in a bar booth beside Ben, and it’s almost _too_ hot. He runs like a furnace, and Rey can tell he’s sweating just a little, his shirt just barely damp at the small of his back. The place they were at now had no roof, the open air cool on their faces, but it was still filled with warm bodies, shrieking girls and boys and loud music, beer sloshing on the floor. It was the filthiest cantina around and Rey feels it in her bones, the energy trapped here from a thousand late nights.

 

The rest of the pack had vanished—to dance, in Poe’s case, or for another pitcher of beer. Rey can just see the top of Finn’s head, Rose teetering up on her toes to wave down the bartender hopefully.

 

Ben takes another swig from his bottle and Rey is drunk as hell or maybe just in love, because she can’t tear her eyes away. His mouth is red and his lips are wet and Rey wants to lick them clean and taste his tongue.

 

“Is there something on my face?”

 

“Uh. Yeah.” Rey hiccups. “Something _hideous_.”

 

His face wrinkles up with disdain for her awful joke, and Rey watches him drag his tongue across his plush bottom lip, licking up the last of the beer.

 

“Kidding,” Rey elbows him, the booze making her a tactile creature, because her hands find their way to clench in the fabric of his dumb short-sleeved polo. Ben is sensitive, and has been since they were kids. One summer when she was six and he was twelve, she made him cry because she asked why he had dumbo ears.

 

It feels like that summer but so damn different—that heat and rawness and skinned knees but now she’s twenty one and he’s twenty seven and she’s not just a kid anymore. She wants skinned knees but for an _entirely_ different reason.

 

Rey sways slightly in her seat—she’s not sober but her body feels light and her mouth is almost magnetically attracted to his. It’s too hard to lean away, so she does the opposite. She skims, feather-light against his jaw with her nose.

 

He turns his head and his eyes are honey-liquid, wet and expressive and it drops into her _toes_.

 

“Rey,” he says, soft, so soft it hurts. It’s a warning and a promise and a prayer. He’s said her name so many times before, but her favorite is always, always when he says it like that.

 

She thinks about how they’ve had the entire booth to themselves for so long now it’s almost inappropriate how closely they’re pressed together. It was indecent, almost a joke, because it doesn’t occur to him that they should slide apart either. Personal space was a strange idea, when they’re drinking and the edges between them are blurred. Breathing-room when she can be close to him makes her feel like she’s withering away.

 

It’s come close—that intangible thing between them, maybe once or twice before. Late at night when he has bad dreams and she sleeps in his bed with shorts that are too short. On New Year’s when he tugged her away from the party and kissed at midnight her on the porch, sweet and aching, his fingers tugging at a strand of her hair. The way his face goes scarlet whenever someone mentions that they’re soulmates or whatever.

 

They’re so close together that Rey feels his breath ticking her cheeks.

 

“Ben?” She says back, the eternal question hovering like a thick fog. She can’t hear the music, only the breeze rustling his hair.

 

His hand drifts to her thigh. It burns, because her skin is bare and his hand is rough and calloused and huge, and then he grips her so hard he’s going to leave bruises.

 

Rey can’t breathe, is choking on it. She makes a little sound, somehow, from somewhere. And his face melts, like it’s the best thing he’d ever been blessed to hear.

 

“Please,” she whispers, not sure what she’s asking for. The only thing that’s ever made sense is his name in her mouth and his hands on her.

 

“You’re drunk,” he leans forward, cutting off the room from view, crowding her in and taking up entirely too much space.

 

Rey wrinkles her nose up at him. “So are you—“

 

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

 

 _Oh_. Oh, she needs him to call her that every day for the rest of her life.

 

“ _You_ , Ben—“ she squeaks, reaching up and tucking some of his hair back from his ears. “Always.” She smiles a little at him. “Sober too—“ her heart should be racing, but instead a calm sense of rightness has washed over her.

 

Something _snaps_ , and they breathe in each other just once.

 

“Oh _god_ ,” he hisses and then there’s nothing else but his mouth hot and desperate against hers, their teeth clacking with the fierceness of it.

 

When he pulls away Rey is panting, eyes blown wide, the whole world brighter and fizzling. Rey lets out a giddy, breathless sound, leaning into his side and tangling their legs beneath the table.

 

“Fuck, Rey, you have no fucking idea—“ he pauses to fist her shirt and gently tug her back again, kissing her just as deeply, like he’s going to die without it. “How long I—,” he growls, dipping his thumb to her collarbone, pressing hard enough to make her feel it. He pulls back again and gives his head a quick shake as if to clear it. “So long, Rey.”

 

“Ben,” she whines. Her body feels like a live wire, brimming with electricity. She had no idea kissing could feel like that—like a drug.

 

“‘S okay,” he mumbles, nearly crawling towards her, shoving her back against the dirty wall. “We’re gonna make up for lost time—“

 

Rey rolls her hips, weak for him. His hand is still on her thigh but she needs it higher, touching her, tracing against her, preferably without clothes.

 

It’s like words don’t matter, because suddenly he’s doing just that—

 

Rey freezes, eyes wide. “Ben—“

 

“Stay still,” he mutters. “Be good for me.”

 

 _Oh_. That’s too much, and it’s rattles her, and when Rey comes back down from the high of hearing those words, she’s trembling, gripping the table so hard it’s splintering beneath her nails.

 

He blocks her from prying eyes with the hulk of his body, nearly crushing the space between them. Because he’s going to— he’s really going to—

 

Rey forces herself to breathe when his fingertips find the seam of her underwear, his blunt fingers gentle against the sensitive skin there. He’s so, so close, and he’s smirking at her, because she must look ridiculous—too high on blazing lust.

 

He traces lightly, just over the covered seam of her lips, and Rey swallows a moan. Her legs spread, trying to egg him on even though it’s so, so bad—they’re in public, and one of their friends could come back at any second and her adrenaline is nothing compared to the eagerness of her cunt, suddenly very aware of how empty she is.

 

“Ben,” she gasps, and he takes mercy on her, because his fingers find her bare skin, slipping beneath the fabric. She’s wet, wetter than she’s ever been in her whole life and she feels a flush crawl up her neck, making her cheeks blotchy.

 

“Fucking soaked, baby,” he groans, slipping just one fingertip ever so slightly inside of her. Rey shivers and she nearly cries when she squeezes and feels every ridge of his first knuckle.

 

“I knew you’d be so fucking tight,” he growls at her. “Have the tightest, cutest little pussy. I’m gonna split you open when we get home—“

 

Rey cries almost silently, just a tiny noise that only he can hear. He smiles softly and pushes his finger deeper—

 

She gasps, and her head smacks against the wall with a loud thunk when she tips her neck back.

 

“Don’t be so obvious, baby. Everyone’s gonna know I’m fucking you with my fingers—“

 

Rey’s hand goes down to clamp on his wrist like a vice. “Faster,” she demands, knowing he’ll giver her what she wants.

 

“So eager,” he laughs softly in her ear.

 

“Been wanting you— for so long,” she hiccups. “Can’t wait, Ben, please—“

 

“Please what?”

 

“Fuck—“ she hisses, biting her tongue because his thumb traces a lazy circle against his clit. “Make me come, Ben.”

 

Her hips rock forward and she’s praying nobody sees—it’s like the whole world has vanished, nothing but his fingers inside of her, rubbing up against a spot inside of her that makes her spark up, sharp and heated. His thumb covers the entirety of her clit as he rolls it, the sensation overwhelming and stringing her up tight.

 

“You’re so fucking pretty, getting fucked. Gonna make you scream my name later. I’m gonna lick your clit until you cry—“

 

Rey is stuttering, trying not to moan because she’s ridiculously close already, between his thick fingers stretching her open, sliding against her skin, his other hand holding her thigh open.

 

“I’m not gonna let you leave my bed all weekend,” he hisses, rubbing faster. “You’re gonna have to beg me to stop— cause I won’t, sweetheart.”

 

Her breathing chokes out, the endearment being what tips her over. Her cunt clenches down, his fingers feeling huge inside of her, and he rubs her clit through it while her legs convulse under the table, murmuring sweet things into her ear. Rey whines into his neck, her spine violently curling up tight until she can’t do it anymore, going slack against the wall.

 

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, nuzzling up to her jaw. “So good for me.”

 

Eventually his fingers slide out of her, and Rey becomes achingly aware that her underwear is soaked through. He lazily wipes half his hand off on her upper thigh, carefully leaning back and bringing his hands up to the light.

 

“You made a mess, baby. I should make you clean it up—“

 

“They were out of Bud Light! Can you guys believe that! Who runs out of bud light?” Rey jerks, thrown out of her peaceful post-orgasmic bliss by Finn scrambling into the booth across from them with a pitcher and a stack of cups.

 

“Yeah, we had to wait for them to open up the new keg—but it’s fresh!”

 

Finn wrinkles his nose. “I mean, fresh is really not the word I’d use for the cheapest thing on the menu.”

 

“I’m trying to be optimistic!”

 

Rey watches Ben, darting a glance at her furtively before sucking and licking his index finger clean. Rose and Finn don’t notice, too busy squabbling over drink specials. Rey whimpers, watching his lips sliding over wet skin.

“I think Ben and I are gonna go ahead and call an uber, actually—“Rey stands on shaking legs and nearly shoves Ben to the floor in her haste to get out of this bar and into his bed.

 

“It’s only midnight—“ Finn hollers at them as they run to the exit, giggling, wrapped up in each other and far too gone into each other. Like they always have been.

**Author's Note:**

> More bullshit available @toutlevin on tumblr dot com


End file.
